This is all under some sort of construction - imagine there's unicorns and dragons or something...

Thursday, 29 May 2014

My farewell letter to Maya Angelou

Dear Dr Angelou

I'm going to be cheesy for just a moment.

Sorry, my bandwagon is going to hitch up with all the others
for today, how can it not?

You were one of the greatest, most shining of writers in
this world, and have left us all the poorer for it. I know you're in a better place, wherever it
is you wanted to go after this life. I
know that despite your absence, your work will speak to the next generations
and hopefully forge new thinkers, new speakers of peace the way you were.

And you'll have to forgive me, this rant will ramble and
have absolutely no structure (which would be a shame because you structured your poetry so beautifully and subtly…)

I have always teetered from being too sad to formulate words
on some days and on others too happy to bring myself to believe that anything
could ever go wrong. Such is the way so
many of us are, especially when we are young.
When we're young we get so myopic and can't see past the hole we dig
ourselves into.

To paraphrase Seamus Heaney a bit; your pen was the shovel
that dug me out into the sun with just the opening stanza of my favorite poem:

Traveling
through casual spacePast
aloof stars, across the way of indifferent sunsTo a
destination where all signs tell usIt is
possible and imperative that we learnA
brave and startling truth

And just like that, I am made humble, small and yet strong
and hopeful all at once and the feeling I felt when the full impact of those
words hit me was so liberating that even on really, really bad days, just that
stanza alone is enough to wash over me like a balm. It feels good to know I'm part of a bigger journey, my problems become small and bearable when faced with the wonder of 'casual space'.

It helps me so much; you remind me that I am made of stardust and I become happy to share the same experiences as the rest of humanity, flawed and small as we sometimes seem to be. You remind me of how magnificent we are as a people, how burning and brilliant we are despite everything. This poem made me feel proud to be human, proud that I shared words like yours, but only you could structure in such a way to leave us feeling inspired.

You have this cooling effect like sea foam over hot coals. It is so refreshing to read your poetry,
every time I read this one though, my breath hitches just a bit and I wonder
what it feels like to have vision as big as yours.

That poem put everything into perspective for me, not to
mention how powerful the rest of that epic 11 stanza poem is.

You've always had this ability to take the long view about
life, which is probably why you're so inspired. You don't speak about life as an
amalgam of separate moments but as one long slow blink of an eye, spanning the millennia
from the beginning of time. It's like you
see sparks of infinity which you described in your poetry.

And of course, there is the fact that your wit and courage
is a powerful voice for women, and for African Americans, you are one of their
finest warriors in the struggle for equal rights in the USA.

Out of the
huts of history's shameI riseUp
from a past that's rooted in painI riseI'm a
black ocean, leaping and wide,Welling
and swelling I bear in the tide.Leaving
behind nights of terror and fearI riseInto a
daybreak that's wondrously clearI riseBringing
the gifts that my ancestors gave,I am
the dream and the hope of the slave.I riseI riseI
rise.

Damn lady, you was classy
even when you was biting a chunk out of them, and oh, did I mention, YOU MADE
TUPAC CRY. Mad props… goddamn

So rest in Power you
amazing, phenomenal woman, you are the finest of all of us and I can only hope
that your words forge a better person of me, us and generations to come.

I'll miss you, but probably
not that much, because you're in the place that matters in my heart.

May the universe embrace
you on your final journey.

T

Edit: I wrote a hell
of a lot more rant, but after going to lunch and doing errands, my mind had
time to cool down and detach a bit and not be as melodramatic as it originally
sounded. Perspective is an awesome thing.
That was something I also learned from
Dr Angelou's work.

The Rock
Cries out to us Today

A Rock, A
River, A TreeHosts
to species long since departed,Mark
the mastodon.The
dinosaur, who left dry tokensOf
their sojourn hereOn our
planet floor,Any
broad alarm of their of their hastening doomIs
lost in the gloom of dust and ages.But
today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,Come,
you may stand upon myBack
and face your distant destiny,But
seek no haven in my shadow.I will
give you no hiding place down here.You,
created only a little lower thanThe
angels, have crouched too long inThe
bruising darkness,Have
lain too longFace
down in ignorance.Your
mouths spelling wordsArmed
for slaughter.The
rock cries out today, you may stand on me,But do
not hide your face.Across
the wall of the world,A
river sings a beautiful song,Come
rest here by my side.Each
of you a bordered country,Delicate
and strangely made proud,Yet
thrusting perpetually under siege.Your
armed struggles for profitHave
left collars of waste uponMy
shore, currents of debris upon my breast.Yet,
today I call you to my riverside,If you
will study war no more.Come,
clad in peace and I will sing the songsThe
Creator gave to me when IAnd
the tree and stone were one.Before
cynicism was a bloody sear across your browAnd
when you yet knew you still knew nothing.The
river sings and sings on.There
is a true yearning to respond toThe
singing river and the wise rock.So say
the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,The
African and Native American, the Sioux,The
Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,The
Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,The
Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,The
privileged, the homeless, the teacher.They
hear. They all hearThe
speaking of the tree.Today,
the first and last of every treeSpeaks
to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.Plant
yourself beside me, here beside the river.Each
of you, descendant of some passed onTraveller,
has been paid for.You,
who gave me my first name,You
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,You
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,Then
forced on bloody feet,Left
me to the employment of other seekers--Desperate
for gain, starving for gold.You,
the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...You
the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,Bought,
sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmarePraying
for a dream.Here,
root yourselves beside me.I am
the tree planted by the river,Which
will not be moved.I, the
rock, I the river, I the treeI am
yours--your passages have been paid.Lift
up your faces, you have a piercing needFor
this bright morning dawning for you.History,
despite its wrenching pain,Cannot
be unlived, and if faced with courage,Need
not be lived again.Lift
up your eyes uponThe
day breaking for you.Give
birth againTo the
dream.Women,
children, men,Take
it into the palms of your hands.Mold
it into the shape of your mostPrivate
need. Sculpt it intoThe
image of your most public self.Lift
up your hearts.Each
new hour holds new chancesFor
new beginnings.Do not
be wedded foreverTo
fear, yoked eternallyTo
brutishness.The
horizon leans forward,Offering
you space to place new steps of change.Here,
on the pulse of this fine dayYou
may have the courageTo
look up and out upon me,The
rock, the river, the tree, your country.No
less to Midas than the mendicant.No
less to you now than the mastodon then.Here
on the pulse of this new dayYou
may have the grace to look up and outAnd
into your sister's eyes,Into
your brother's face, your countryAnd
say simplyVery
simplyWith
hopeGood
morning.